Legacy
by Prestwick
Summary: With nobody to trust, yet knowing what would happen if a madman were to take control how would you go about saving the status quo? Updated 2nd chapter added!
1. Prolouge

"Have you ever thought of how things might have been if just a few of our cards had been dealt differently?" Sir Andrew looked out of the window at the traffic forming and dispersing below him. A television crew were filming outside of the Foreign Office on the street.

"To be honest sir I never really sat down down thought about it" Kingston-Brown thumbed through paperwork for the days business, attaching multi-coloured tags and post-it notes before placing them very carefully into one of several red ministerial boxes labelled 'for the minister's attention.'

"I have. I've thought about it every day since I left University. My whole working life has been centred around attempting to stop the rot and.." he smiled to himself, perhaps remembering a past memory "..one might think it to no avail."

Sir Andrew turned and headed to the drinks cabinet, he poured himself a brandy and wandered back to the window "There were once two major movements in this country, the tories and the whigs." He took a gentle sip from his glass "the tories were more right wing and conservative in their way of thinking while the whigs were more liberal and radical. On the tory side they had their philosophical champions such as Burke while the whigs had Mills, Paine and others."

Kingston-Brown continued sorting the documents as he listened.

"These two sides were engaged in bitter and colossal combat. Whoever won would have a serious chance of controlling how the world would develop for a long time. The whigs were revolutionary, believing that the world must constantly change and that people must change too, that old systems would be swept away by the tidal wave of new ideas. The tories believed the opposite, that if Britain was to progress in the world it must cherish the checks and balances that had made it such a success."

"And what of liberty sir?"

"Liberty?" Sir Andrew almost scoffed at Kingston-Brown "Liberty was championed by both sides however in different ways. The whigs advocated action by the state to ensure the liberty of the masses, even to the point of prosecution to achieve this. Tories however advocated that the state should stay out of an individual's business come what may."

"So what happened?"

"The two sides were originally allied against a greater more autocratic threat. The Civil war defeated one threat to liberty but created a new one in that what kind of liberty should Britain have? After two hundred years there was a victor. However it was a pyrrhic victory. The tories had won and thus influenced how the world was shaped for the next century but at what cost?"

"I don't quite understand sir?"

"Through endless infighting we had lost sight of our goal. Paine, Mills, Rousseau, Hume, the lot of them all contributed towards our downfall through their own selfish and dogmatic goals." He finished his brandy and put the glass down slowly "at a time we should have been united, we were divided. At a time we should have dispatched our enemies and assumed domination, we faltered and paid the price."

"And now here we are sir" Kingston-Brown said, getting up and heading towards the exit with the ministerial red boxes "sir I'm just going to take a break and I will forward the days telegrams to you."

"Very good Kingston-Brown." Sir Andrew kept staring out of the window "Kingston-Brown...what if I could say that we could engineer our rise back to the top, create a new world order where it is _our_ policy that shapes the world and not that of some tin pot neo-jacobin upstart like the European Union or the United States or even that of China?"

"Sir?" Kingston-Brown turned around to look at Sir Andrew "I don't quite understand what you are saying."

"Go to the archives in building five on Northumberland avenue. In the basement there is a secret archive where you will need several pass codes and identification as well as a signed and stamped letter bearing the seal of a privy councillor such as myself. When you are there you will be allowed to withdraw one file and one file only."

"Sir?"

"I want you to withdraw a file with the title 'plan 75' and return it to me in the strictest of confidence." Sir Andrew turned and headed to the table. He took out a letter and wrote something down on it before taking out a metal zippo lighter and lighting a red candle. "I can trust you will serve me well?"

Kingston-Brown looked at Sir Andrew quizzically. He didn't know that there was a government archive on that street let alone a secret annex. This was all quite new to an assistant secretary. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"I asked you a question Kingston-Brown."

"I shall sir."

"Very good." Sir Andrew signed the document and dripped candle wax over a spot at the bottom. He reached into his draw and pulled out a seal and stamped down on the wax. He folded the letter up very carefully and repeated this step before stepping to Kingston-Brown and handing the letter to him.

"Take the back entrance, instruct security to turn off the CCTV. Do not let anyone follow you. If you think you are being followed, burn the letter and return home for the day."

"Yes sir, of course sir." Kingston-Brown nodded hastily and put the red boxes to one side before leaving.

Sir Andrew smiled before returning to his desk "very good."


	2. Chapter 1

"Nice Day" Gallagher remarked as he looked out over Glenfada Park, the towers of the infamous Bodside looming in the morning mist as the two RUC Special Branch officers walked along a path to a meeting with one of their 'Super grasses', men in the Provisional IRA and Loyalist Paramilitaries willing to act as key prosecution witnesses in exchange for money and a new life. They were shadowed from a distance by British soldiers on a morning patrol.

"D'ye think he'll talk much sense today Harry?" his partner Stevie McFadden looked at him with a grin, adjusting his black overcoat in the morning cold "he spent most of yesterday trying to recruit us to the fuckin' taig machine."

"Aye, like he think he can dick us around forever Stevie." Gallagher chuckled, seeing a bunch of kids walking to school, decked out in their uniforms and running along, trying to get the sleepiness out of their systems before morning lessons. One kid tripped as they ran past, falling onto all fours.

"Christ almighty kid, ye alright there?" Gallagher asked, looking down at the brown haired child with obvious concern. He couldn't have been older than seven at the most as he looked up.

"Fuck off ye black bastard" came the sneering reply.

* * *

"Nice day" Gallagher remarked, shaking away the cobwebs and dreams of yesteryear. He was looking out of the window of his office which while Spartan was put together using reasonably modern materials. It was around six in the morning for the Metropolitan Police's newly renamed Patrol Labour Unit (East London) and the day shift was about to begin.

"Say that again" Wills rubbed his stiff neck and yawned, watching out of the window as Trenchard jogged into work. Daily routine and all that, jog into work, grab a shower and a bite to eat and clock onto shift.

Trenchard sprinted the last hundred meters to the building and slowed to a stop, panting a bit in his sleeveless t-shirt and shorts. Backpack holding spare clothes for the late night when he'd clock off.

"The wee lads early" Gallagher remarked again, sipping coffee, having been transferred six months ago to the Metropolitan Police and since moving into the purpose built buildings and garages in Stratford things had gone slowly.

Their main priority was protecting the new Docklands developments and apart from a few lone nuts in a few smaller Hiishi labours, things had been for the most part quiet: perfect for training a very inexperienced maintenance crew as well as the jockeys and their controllers.

"He's always early guv" Wills poured himself a mug of tea and grabbed a digestive and looked to Gallagher "where is Karen?"

"Karen?" Trenchard called out as he entered the deserted garage, passing the two large Fairfax Mk.II Patlabours "Oi! Karen?"

"Yo" Sergeant Karen Andrews said as she slid out from Trenchard's Fairfax via the quick release system "excuse me, I'm just taking down the last running notes." One part of piloting a Fairfax was to log the date, time and remarks before operating.

"Oh righto, I was just going to shower and get changed, want to go over the incident reports again on the PITO portal?" the PITO Portal was a web portal which linked together all kinds of police and criminal information.

"We can do that. Talk to Macca first though. He said the suspension needed tuning on your Labour. Don't operate without a proper check up" Karen looked at Trenchard sternly "I don't want you suddenly snapping a leg in the middle of a manoeuvre."

"Yes Ma'am" Trenchard rubbed his nose and headed off upstairs to the male changing rooms and showers.

"I mean it Alan. You respond to an emergency call without getting this Fairfax a clean bill of health and I'll recommend to the guv that you're removed from the pilot roster."

Trenchard stopped for a moment, but decided not to respond and headed on upstairs.

Karen sighed and brushed some of her shoulder length light brown hair aside. Her frame was a very athletic one, competing for the force in athletics she found her 5'5" frame perfect for distance running. She shifted her shirt and closed the Fairfax hatch before heading to the staff office to work.

* * *

The morning was bright and sunny for WPC Nat Fraser. She too was 5'5" but shared a much weaker and lighter build to that of Sergeant Andrews. Fraser opted to take bicycle to work than jog, dodging between early morning traffic in East London's streets before swinging into the grounds of the PLU buildings.

Pulling off her helmet revealed her long brown hair tied into a pony tail of sorts, locking up her bike, she ran into the garage and upstairs past Sergeant Andrews and to the female changing rooms "crap!" she cursed out loud "I'm late!"

"Sergeant Jarvis is looking for you Nat" Andrews shouted after her as she ascended the stairs too.

The rest of the building was Spartan but modern. The basic fittings such as tables and chairs and cheap bunks for sleeping over in night shifts were provided. A round up amongst the new staff produced enough money for a decently sized television, a DVD player and a digital set top box. Computers were rented by the IT company contracted by the Met.

Amongst all of this Andrews sat down at her desk and logged onto her computer. The days work normally consisted of just going through standard paperwork. As well as responding to emergencies, they were required to sign labour operating license applications after reviewing the necessary documents.

It was late summer and thankfully it wasn't as hot as it was in July and August. Unlike elsewhere in the world, British police didn't have the advantage of summer uniforms, only the option to remove everything (bar your stab proof vest when on duty) and wear just your shirt and trousers.

Downstairs meanwhile Macca turned up for work, driving in as he did and pulling up outside the garage and with a frustrated sigh he got out and walked inside. "Where t'bloody hell is everyone!" He called out. Eventually a mechanic came out from the overnight dorms.

"Oi! Henson, what the bloody hell y'doing up there! Get everyone out now and check over the labours" Macca yelled "morning shift started an hour ago!"

Henson looked at his watch and blinked tiredly "er..er..sorry guv. Right away guv!"

"You lads were meant to have checked em' an hour ago" Macca continued to say loudly as he gave Trenchard's Fairfax a visual check over "not good enough, don't make me return any of you guys to your forces."

* * *

The day was long, slow, hot and boring. Like with many British buildings (new and old) air conditioning wasn't an option usually and so, predictably, the staff roasted. Engineering staff overalls were kept on but it was long, hard and sweaty work. Trenchard drank some water as he watched his Fairfax being worked over.

"Got a minute?" It was Macca, leaning over the balcony too "it true you didn't report a fault with your labour mate?"

"I didn't think it was a problem."

"Mate, the left suspension was seriously worn out. One heavy knock and your labour would have been wiped out." Macca looked quite concerned while Trenchard looked straight ahead.

"I know we're meant to be saving money on parts and service but not at the cost of serious injury!" Macca continued.

"I know, I know. I'm getting rusty aren't I? That's why they brought in Sergeant Andrews right?"

"Damn right, if you wanted my opinion you needed a boot up the arse like" Macca grinned, giving Trenchard a poke in the arm.

Sergeant Andrews however remained blissfully unaware of such talk as she pointed Fraser through logging information on the Police computer "it's quite easy. The form is self explanatory."

"Aye, thanks" Fraser smiled as she attempted to enter some example information into the system.

"So what made you join here?" Andrews asked Fraser "this is your first month here right?"

"Apart from the transfer request by my Chief Superintendent?" Fraser laughed nervously, the laugh slowed as she saw Andrews smirk slightly, Fraser sighed softly.

"Well?" Andrews looked insistently at Fraser.

"Well..I guess I thought that there being an actual emergency in the North of Scotland involving a labour was next to none. We only have Gorillas up there and I really wanted to try out the Fairfax like."

"Must be a bit daunting."

"Everyone says that it's a bit daunting but I don't mind. It's getting so that it's daunting to hear people say that 'it's a bit daunting!'"

There was a bit of a quiet pause as they continued filling out the form, the comfort of technology filling the gap between the two colleagues who were evidently a bit wary of each other.

* * *

One of the other new additions to the Unit was an overall Chief Superintendent. Overseeing Gallagher was the tall, delicate figure of CS Cowall.

The man usually went about his business in a dressed down manner during the summer, a cheery smile adorning his withered and wrinkled face. There were rumours that he had worked for military intelligence or MI5 when he was younger but if he did, Gallagher "sure didn't bloody meet him in the past", but still rumours do persist.

Cowall decided to let himself into Gallaghers office "ah! Tea! For me?" he said with delight "one sugar please and a dash of milk if you would be so very kind DC Williams."

"Afternoon Sir" Gallagher turned around from the window "long day?"

"Looked in meetings with area command over deployment of labour assets in event of a terrorist emergency for five hours? You bet." Cowall chuckled as he took a seat "how are you fitting into life at the Met then Gallagher?"

"I'm liking the pay hike, and I like the fact that I'm not obliged to patrol train stations anymore if staff levels are low." Gallagher joked with a soft chuckle from everyone in the room.

"Yeah, you can say that again guv. Nothing like a bit of reporting train vandalism to make you want to do another job" Wills joined in.

"Well that I must say is excellent; I am very pleased that you're all fitting in pretty well." Colwall walked to the window and looked out as Macca marshalled his men as the two labours were driven out for a full inspection outside in the lovely morning weather "I'm quite impressed in particular by your choice of personnel for your team Gallagher."

"A good coach always picks his best squad Sir." Gallagher looked to Wills who nodded. "I'll bring the coffee and tea in a moment" he said, heading out of the office, leaving Cowall and Gallagher alone.

"I'm impressed Harry. When I took up this position, I was warned about how much of a political hot potato this was." He smiled, looking at Gallagher "I'm pleased that no surprises have come up."

"Since the adventure in Japan sir we've tried to keep a low profile. The low labor crime rate has helped things considerably."

"And your former handler?"

"Haven't had a call from the Foreign Office since we moved to the Metropolitan Police. Maybe I'm off limits now."

"I'd presume so Harry, just don't think that you have outgrown your use." Cowall patted Gallagher and headed out, passing Wills as he came in with a tray of tea and coffee "thanks but I'll pass on the tea this time."

"Er..well..no problem sir" Wills blinked, looking at Gallagher. He was still staring out of the window. After Cowall left the office, Gallagher turned around.

"Pass a mug of tea Wills" Gallagher rubbed his neck "ever get the feeling things were getting too quiet around here?"


	3. Chapter 2

Gallagher woke the next day at his desk. He had been sleeping after working late since he didn't want to go home, so he did the next best thing. He felt tired and his mouth was dry. He looked wearily outside as the sun rose and Stratford started gradually to come to life. He sat up and turned on the monitor and sat there, blankly staring, his mind starting to drift once more.

---

"Harry? Harry snap out of it will ye!"

Gallagher shook his head and opened his eyes. It was the Bogside again, the tall tower blocks rising up into the clouds, looking tall and imposing in their grey and intimidating guise. He took a slow gaze around the area. This was well and truly Republican turf, two Special Branch officers would be easy meat for even a guy with an armalite poking out of the Divis flats. On some of the taller tower blocks, the imposing and almost alien structures of British Army observation posts, were built on top of the tower blocks to provide a supposed oasis of authority in this land of rebellion.

"Come on lets go and get the meeting over already," Steve muttered, "this quiets beginning to give me wee scaries."

Gallagher nodded and walked on towards a park bench. There sitting was one of the IRA's main battalion commanders for the area. He looked around nervously, noticing the two men in their overcoats and recognising them immediately.

"Took ye own sweet time didn't ye?"

Steve took the lead and sat down next to the man, Gallagher stepped away, his back to the pair as he scoped out the surroundings.

---

Gallagher was woken out of his flashback by a loud rap on the door to his office. Coming back to his senses he looked up, it was Wills. Nodding, he entered.

"Guv, I don't quite know what to make of this but..." his voice trailed off as he looked away, "its Brixton central CID, they want to talk to you."

Gallagher blinked tiredly "... Sorry Wills, about what?"

"Someones been murdered. They say it might interest you," Wills pointed to the two inspectors on the other side of the clear glass wall looking out into the rest of the office.

Gallagher nodded and rose from his desk, rubbing his eyes.

"Put the kettle on, mines two sugars" he said as he opened the door, "come in, come in, sorry about the delay in seeing you."

"It's okay, we know how tough these all nighter shifts can be, especially if you are short staffed," said the first plain clothed inspector, the second one kept quiet, merely holding back to gaze around the office. Gallagher meanwhile flumped straight back down into his comfortable chair, pleased that it was still warm as he offered seats to the two other inspectors.

"I am DS Asher and this is DC Canterwood, we'd like to discuss something very important with you," he looked behind him at Wills.

"Alone if possible."

Gallagher sat back a bit in his chair, a tired, almost bored look on his face as he nodded to Wills. Wills smiled pleasantly before heading out of the office, closing the door behind him quietly. Asher waited until Wills was out of sight.

"At 4 a.m. this morning, we got a 999 call reporting a body inside a flat in central Brixton. Officers were on the scene and had cordoned off the area."

"I'm not in CID investigating murders anymore," Gallagher smirked a bit, "why does this have anything to do with me?"

"We checked the body. It was male, late forties. We also checked what the chap had on him. We found an old RUC warrant card and an RUC Special Branch association card amongst other things."

Asher leant forward.

"Harry, did you know at any time in your life and a certain Steven Campbell?"

Gallagher's smile froze, his tired eyes taking a few moments to catch up with his frozen head.

"Sorry, who?"

"Steven Campbell, known as Stevie to his friends."

"Was that the wee stiff guy?"

"Yup."

Gallagher rubbed his brow and got up, wandering to the table where the kettle had boiled and poured out his tea. His hand trembling, he spilt a bit of boiling water on his fingers. He swore loudly and threw the kettle on the floor, breathing deeply as he held his hand he stared at the floor as the steam rose up.

"We wanted to inform you first, he was a colleague of yours, wasn't he?" Asher continued.

Canterwood looked nervously at his superior, not sure that an angry Scot who had just burnt his fingers with hot water should be questioned like this.

"Aye, aye he was. Who killed him?" Gallagher said quietly.

"We don't quite know, that's why we're here," Asher said, sitting back, "we think it was something more than just say a petty homicide."

Gallagher rubbed his fingers and went to turn on the tap and pour cold water on his fingers, "IRA maybe?"

"No, no. If it was it would be Special Branch talking to you," Asher said bluntly.

"We think it was a professional hit, these kind of things happen between rival drugs gangs, the yardies and other groups in Brixton and as such fall under Operation Trident," Asher continued.

"We understand that Campbell had his fingers in unregulated massage parlours and the like here in London," Canterwood added, "we believe he might have come to blows with one of the yardie gangs here."

By this time Gallagher had sat back down, "and you want my help?"

"We're confused, we tried to pursue leads or witnesses and there are none. None at all," Asher said, leaning in, "at about 9am this morning, we got a call in from the Yard. Don't touch this case."

Gallagher raised an eyebrow through his stern and angry face, "the Yard are scaring you off of the case?"

"When we got that, we did some digging and we found you were his partner." Canterwood leant forward too.

"Harry, we want you to take the case...on an informal basis," Asher said, Canterwood nodded.

"Informal?"

"Yes, as far as we're concerned the case is still awaiting processing under Operation Trident." Asher leant in a little further, "but we want you to pursue it behind the scenes."

"Conduct a wee investigation that doesn't exist?"

"Essentially."

"So where is the body?"

"Its still at the murder site, we cordoned the area off naturally and set a tent up over the body," Asher smirked darkly, "if anything at least we'll have someone to confirm the identity of the body."

Gallagher nodded and shrugged absently, getting up and grabbing his coat, "just me or anyone else?"

"You can bring whoever you like," Asher shrugged.

"Not our problem anymore," Canterwood rubbed his hands together, obviously the newly installed heating wasn't enough for him.

Wills had just finished the teas and was bringing the tray up to the office when Gallagher emerged, coat on. His face one of quiet sadness as he rubbed his eyes slightly and rubbed his sagging cheeks.

"Guv?" Wills looked concerned, putting the tray down on the side. "Guv, you in shock? What happened?"

"Get your coat Wills," Gallagher mumbled, heading downstairs.

"Guv I-"

"I said," Gallagher said in an angry tone before shaking his head and sighing, clenching his body together in an attempt to keep control. "I said, get your coat, we're on a job."

Asher and Canterwood followed out of the office soon after, looking between Gallagher and Wills with slightly curious gazes before following Gallagher downstairs.

----

The ride to the block of flats in central Brixton was slow and monotonous in the London traffic. True to form, it had begun to rain heavily, driving people indoors in all directions from the pavements as they drove slowly. Gallagher stared straight ahead as they followed Asher and Canterwood's car, his tired bloodshot eyes appearing blank and devoid of all feeling.

"Guv, what happened in there?" Wills asked after a long silence in the traffic jam.

Gallagher said nothing, winding down the window slightly before lighting up a cigarette.

"I need to know what it is guv," Wills said, tapping the steering wheel impatiently.

"Wills," Gallagher said quietly, his hand trembling a bit, "tell me lad, how did you feel when a relative close to you died?"

This question took the younger DC aback a bit. "Well, I was very sad I-"

"And did you feel a touch of anger, lad," Gallagher shot Wills a dangerous look, "of unbridled rage, boy?"

Wills said nothing before looking away. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Gallagher nodded with grim smile, slapping Wills on the back, "it's an old partner of mine, they found him dead in Brixton and they want me to take on the case."

"You?!"

"Me, I don't know why but CID at Brixton central have been spooked by the Yard," Gallagher looked over at Wills, "whatever you do, when we get back, do not tell anyone outside the office about this."

"This is just us two?"

"Just us two," Gallagher looked Wills directly in the eye, "nobody else."

The cars eventually turned into a new build estate in Brixton. One of the many places across London where the grey 1950s tower blocks had been demolished and replaced with modern, pleasant and airy apartment blocks more deserving of a place on the beachfront in Miami than in a cold and wet part of London.

One of the blocks had been cordoned off by police, some of them armed as they hung around outside the entrance to the block and looking quite bored and grim as most officers are when guarding crime scenes.

"This door here," Canterwood nodded to Gallagher, nodding to the constable on duty at the door to the apartment, "as you can see Harry, no forced entry through the front door."

"No windows broken either," Asher added, "whoever killed Steven must have been let in either willingly or through deception."

Gallagher didn't reply as he peered through the apartment.

"Have forensics been through yet?" Gallagher asked.

"Yeah, they just finished when we arrived. They've picked up all they could find," Asher said, walking into the apartment, "the corpse is in the living room."

The scene that greeted Gallagher seemed to eat him up inside. The corpse was slumped down against the couch on the far side of the rather spartan living room. The television was still on, the digital television top box set to the news channel and on mute. The ghostly figures on the screen adding a surreal nature to the crime scene.

Steve himself had his head slumped down against his chest, a large critical gunshot wound to the center of his chest and blood flooded down from his body all over the couch and the floor. Gallagher wandered over slowly and squatted down and looked at Steve's face.

He seemed to stare for what seemed like a very long time.

Steve had an angry look on his face; his eyes were clenched tightly shut, his teeth clenched in rigor mortis and his fists closed tight, as if trying to push the bullet out of his chest.

"That's Stevie alright," Gallagher muttered, getting up again and stepping back to Asher and Canterwood. Wills had left the apartment in a hurry, making loud gurgling sounds. Evidently this was his first murder scene.

"Whats your opinion then?" Asher asked. Gallagher took time to look around the room.

"Seems like a professional job", he concluded after a number of minutes, "nothing stolen by the looks of it, nothing disturbed and nothing set out or..."

He paused for a moment and looked back at Steve.

The corpse was looking directly at him. His eyes open. His gaze, one of bored amusement. He was still sitting down, the blood still stained his clothes and his fists were still clenched. But he looked unnervingly alive.

For a split second, Steve's lips moved.

"Harry?" Asher shook Gallagher's shoulder "Harry you alright?"

Gallagher was frozen stiff, mouth half open, as if wanting to reply and indeed he did want to reply but for the simple problem that the words he chose simply did not want to come out. He shivered softly, his eyes ran wide with fear, terror even.

The corpse however looked serene. His eyes were closed, his head was still slumped forward in the same position as had been since Steven had breathed his last breath. Gallagher panted softly now, his emotions were starting to get the better of him and he felt the pangs of a panic attack coming on.

"He..he said something," Gallagher finally spoke.

"Who did?"

"Stevie...he said something."

"What? The stiff?! You're having a-"

"He, said, something!" Gallagher turned, his features flushed with anger, insulted that someone would doubt the word of his friend, his true and close friend. Someone who he trusted and relied upon for all his years in Ulster.

He had to get away.

"Harry!" Asher called out "what the bloody hell is he doing?!"

Gallagher was staggering out of the flat, the corridor becoming woozy, the beige and oranges turning pink and red and slowly grey. He coughed, holding his chest as he burst through the police crime scene tape and leant against the railings of the balcony. He couldn't hear anything now, he could see Wills staring at him, shaking him by the shoulders and yelling something and soon he was joined by Asher and Canterwood along with a police medic.

----------

"Sad ain't it?" Stevie said as he drove "the bastard'll probably be swinging from the nearest lamp post by the end of the week."

"I told you it was wrong to meet him so close to his home turf," Gallagher shook his head, gazing out and watching the green, white and orange painted kerb stones and the Irish tricolours flutter from those glorious multi-purpose lamp posts. Lighting, flag post and lynching point.

"That's the way you turn them Harry. You insist on interviewing them in full view of the local provo unit. You make sure everyone knows he's a rat and then I can guarantee you. He'll be phoning us tomorrow to turn supergrass."

"Surely we could turn them in a better way...so that nobody knows."

"Who the fuck do you think we are? MI5?"

"True I guess."

"Och, trouble," Stevie was referring to the gradual change of reaction to the RUC unmarked car. Looks of suspicion were changing to glares of anger, gestures and shouts of insults. Two men in a standard Austin were very obvious and the pair knew this as they drove down the road. It was only a matter of time before the first brick was thrown.

"Sunbeam control, sunbeam control, we've just had a brick thrown at our car on Albert Street, over?" Gallagher said into his radio before looking to Stevie. Stevie just smirked and winked at one of the men now openly brandishing an iron bar. He loved this kind of confrontation.

"Stevie for Christs sake put your foot down," Gallagher hissed, "there will be a riot if we don't get out of here!"

"Calm yer horses Harry," Stevie muttered before winding down his window, "ye cracked me windscreen, fuckin' Taig prick!" He cried before putting his foot down. A hail of bricks, rocks and bits of pavement following in their wake.

-------

"Harry?!"

Gallagher blinked and looked up. It was Wills, looking very concerned and holding a bottle of water.

"What...what happened?" Gallagher asked, still staring.

"You had a panic attack," the police doctor smiled as he gave Gallagher a check over, "I think you blanked out too, don't worry you'll be fine."

"You kept saying that the corpse said something Guv," Wills said, frowning a bit.

"Where are the other two?"

"DCI Asher and his mate? They left Guv, left you to it."

Gallagher, tired and still feeling nausea, put his arm out to Wills, who in turn helped him up.

"Are you sure you are okay?" The medic, looking at him with genuine concern, gave him on last check over before stepping back "okay, okay, you're free to go."

After the pair had finished checking witness statements from the neighbors, they got back into their car and drove back to the station, Gallagher still looking quite pale.

"You said the corpse said something," Wills broke the silence of the car "what did he say."

Gallagher kept quiet, staring out of the window rubbing his lower lip with his thumb. Deep in thought.

"Guv?"

"I don't do psychiatry" Gallagher muttered with a light sneer.

Wills sighed, whatever it was that was gnawing at his boss wasn't going to be revealed to him for a while yet. Thus, he decided to change tack, "what about the murder?"

"Easy," Gallagher continued to stare out of the window "we'll nail the bastard involved," he opened the glove box and pulled out his mobile "we just need the right contacts."

Gallagher made some calls, to whom Wills didn't know but they were long and lengthy, asking about Steve's recent movements and meetings without letting on about the murder. It would probably take a few days before word got around his contacts about what had happened. They drove on through the day back to Stratford and back to the station, where upon arriving, Macca was there to greet them. He looked rather confused and learnt down to speak through the window.

"Theres a guy upstairs to meet you Guv, I told him you weren't around, but he insisted that he stay and wait for you to arrive so I dumped him in the reception with a cup of coffee."

"Know who he is?" Gallagher looked first at Macca, then at Wills with a shrug.

"Nope."

"Do you know what he wanted to talk to us about?"

"Not a scooby."

Gallagher sighed, "right." This was all he needed right now.

------

The man was waiting in the empty reception, sitting back in one of the cheap chairs while he sipped on his instant coffee and looked up at the various promotional Shinohara photos and public technical diagrams of the various patrol labors around the world. He had a short but very well kept head of black hair, his glasses thin and highly fashionable and his tailor obviously was second to none. His shoes creaked and crackled with every slight movement of his feet. The man looked over at Gallagher and Wills as they entered, he immediately rose to meet them, a warm smile on his lips.

"Ah! The very man himself!" the snappily dressed man remarked "DCI Gallagher, you're known far and wide, recommended by some circles too!"

"I'd doubt that" Gallagher muttered, putting out a hand "and you are?"

"Oh, please excuse my manners" the man shook first Gallagher's hand before moving onto Wills "David Trevellian" he smiled warmly again, it made Gallagher look blankly at Trevellian, there was something hidden behind that smile.

"Are you with the police? The press?"

"Actually, I'm a case officer, internal security task force, the security services" Trevellian said with a soft roll of his eyes.

"What does MI5 want with us?" Wills looked a little perturbed by the presence of a powerful MI5 spook in a police station.

"Come now DC Williams, whatever happened to good natured co-operation between agencies?" Trevellian chuckled softly "I am merely here to give my condolences to what was a very valued and dear friend to me," he smiled, looking at Gallagher out of the corner of his eye, "someone who now, has been cruelly taken from us by the bullet of an assassin."

Gallagher froze, blinking for a moment, then narrowing his eyes "come with me," he said, opening the door to the station offices, leading Trevellian to his office "Wills, go get the rest of the paperwork from Brixton station for us."

Wills looked back at Gallagher, a terribly worried look on his face as he opened his mouth to say something in protest at not being allowed to be privy to the impending conversation between Gallagher and Trevellian.

"I'll be fine, don't worry," Gallagher smiled "just do your job, and I'll do mine."

"Guv.." Wills nodded and headed back out, driving off moments later. Gallagher looked to Trevellian.

"My office David?"

"Of course," Trevellian smiled as he was shown up the stairs, the surrounding offices empty, the staff on exercise out in the yard along with the labors. The Fairfax's gas turbines whining loudly along with the tell tale thumps as they ran through tests.

Gallagher let Trevellian into his office, wandering over to check the kettle and put two teabags in two mugs, "sorry for the mess, I'm not the kind of lad who keeps his life in order."

"So it would seem Mr Gallagher."

"Harry would be nice, thanks."

"A pleasure, I'm sure."

A pause followed as Gallagher let the kettle boil, the loud hissing of the water heading filling the air between the two.

"I understand you are under the kosh a bit Harry, but I do awfully need a favour."

"Under the kosh?" Gallagher snorted and looked over "my best friend has been found, dead, in some shitty flat in Brixton."

"Indeed, but now is not the time to get emotional" Trevellian smirked slightly "oh, do come sit down Harry, we can't conduct business with you brooding over there."

Gallagher looked over, rubbing the side of his head. With a sigh, he poured out two teas, splashed some milk in and upon removing the tea bags brought them over, handing one to Trevellian and finally slumping down into his chair behind the desk.

"Harry, the reason why I am here," Trevellian stopped for a moment and considered his words. He smiled and nodded to himself "the reason why I am here is because of Steven."

"How do you know Stevie?!" Gallagher demanded.

"He is, or should I say was, a good contact for us," Trevellian took a sip of his tea, "we've been geared towards fighting Islamic and Environmental extremism so much now that the old structures monitoring Irish Republicanism and the Loyalists has evaporated."

"And he was your link to the dark old days?"

"Quite, he used to mingle in the dissident loyalist circles here in London and up in Western Scotland."

Gallagher sipped his tea carefully while watching Trevellian intently "and why do you want my help? You're a spook, you have resources far out stripping mine."

"It is a little more delicate than that Harry," Trevellian chuckled softly "we believe that an organised group of individuals with criminal aspirations had ordered the hit on our mutual friend."

"You've been monitoring them for a while?"

"Naturally, but as always, we prefer to keep things like this low key and as such we have been hidden very much in the shadows and monitoring them from afar."

Trevellian sipped more of his tea and took out a small envelope from his pocket, putting it on the table and slowly pushing it towards Gallagher "have a read, it might enlighten you."

With a curious look, Gallagher first looked up at Trevellian, and then down at the envelope, taking it and picking it up. He slowly opened it and pulled out a piece of paper, looking at for a moment before reading.

"Its a signed order from the chaps who we are dealing with here Harry, the men who ordered the hit on Steven," Trevellian smirked darkly "they call themselves 'The Chatham Society' and I do believe that they are quite a threat to Parliamentary democracy in this country."

"The Chatham Society?" Gallagher looked up, looking puzzled as he put the piece of paper down, the document handwritten in ink "why are they called the Chatham Society?"

"Nobody knows, I do know that they are quite a cabal of politicians, business leaders and members of the military; all with various connections to all parts of society," Trevellian "I have it on good authority that some Chief Constables of the Police are members too, that however we cannot be sure for certain."

"However, if it was known you had visited?"

"It would cause quite a stir, I know, I am taking more than a risk openly speaking with you." Trevellian leaned forward "that however is not important, what is important is that you have been sidelined, nobody is keeping an eye on you Harry, you're useless to the power brokers that be in this game," he grinned "and that makes you a very valuable resource."

"You want me to investigate this murder, and link it to this Chatham Society?"

"Oh, good heavens no!" Trevellian waved his hand dismissively "I would never dream of putting this much pressure on you to do my dirty work," he leaned back and looked up at the picture on Gallagher's wall to the left, "I would just rather that you make, well, enquiries and let me know how you get on."

Gallagher looked over at the picture too, it was an old, faded black and white picture of a group of young men in plain clothes, smiling for the camera in front of the famous statue of Ulster Unionist figure Edward Carson at Stormont.

"That was the Special Branch when I was there, in the late seventies" he smiled faintly "I'm over to the far left, and Stevie is just next to me."

"So I see," Trevellian said, deep in thought as he regarded the photo with fascination. Finally he spoke, "tell me, Harry, how many of that team are still alive today?"

"Out of fifteen, I'd say about five."

"Funny how times change Harry, yet the mission objectives stay the same."

"Aye."

--------------------End of Chapter Two---------------------

Well, phew! What a marathon that was! Sorry it took so long to get the new chapter out but I had a serious case of writers block for a long while. Big thanks to Liz for proof reading this train wreck and I hope you can all make sense of what I've written! Remember, any feedback is good feedback!

I think I know how I am going to proceed with this. Eventually some element of Patlabor will make it's entrance to the story, but until then, please be patient and enjoy what I am trying to write here.

Until then, have fun!

-Pudduh.


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